


Death kindly stopped for me

by suppertragedy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, alternative universe, fluff if you quint, soft angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 18:36:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1176494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suppertragedy/pseuds/suppertragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is also known that only through Death that one can really see the thing they most treasure. Literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death kindly stopped for me

Contrary to the popular philosophy of mankind, Death is either the end or part of Life. He is known by most as one of the four Horsemen of Apocalypse, the oldest, strongest and most mysterious entity, his origin as well as true name well hidden by the course of time. Many angels and demons are suspiscious that he might be His twin.

In his tangible form, for the most part, Death seems very laid-back and enjoying life (the irony of it.) He could be quite a charmer if he wants to. Death is said to be objective, he doesn’t care about who or what he rips, but Castiel has seen his touches linger just a tad longer on souls that shine brightly or beautifully. Even though light, the caresses were unmistakable.

It is also known that only through Death that one can really see the thing they most treasure. Literally. And thus the angel wasn’t totally surprised when Death, once faceless to him, started to take shape after Dean after Castiel lost him to the battle against the Morning Star. Dean was God’s 73rd Righteous Man, Castiel’s first and only human charge. Uriel once passed a joke that it must be why Casitel has become so fearless during battles. The latter angel balked at the suggestion of him being suicidal, but didn’t deny the fact that he wouldn’t mind running into Death in that form. After a few millennia give or take, and hundreds of their fleeting encounters with Castiel being in various miserable and unspeakable states, the angel has ceased to feel undignified when the Horseman looms over his prone form.

Death grins, green eyes casting cursory glances at Castiel’s tattered wings.

“Isn’t this my favorite angel? You’re everywhere I go to. And you look worse for wear each time.” 

Although Castiel is used to Death’s presence, he is still unnerved to see those mortal eyes on the timeless being. The angel is also grateful for his blurry vision. Because if he focuses, that lovely constellation of freckles will flicker and Death’s true form, a humanoid space void, will start to show through. The echoes of passed souls trail like smoke after the Horseman, tracing minuscule silhouettes of dancing animals, humans and other beings on his bare skin, against his dark vest, around the contour of his form. Sometimes Castiel would imagine seeing a familiar figure with bowed legs among the silhouettes. Afterwards he would be amused with the idea of Dean dancing. 

"You stare." There’s an impression of a smile on Death’s (Dean’s) full lips.

"My… apology." Castiel manages through the crushed windpipe of his vessel. Now it takes him hours to regenerate after battle. "Am I…"

"No, angel. I’m not here for you. Not yet. You came closer every time, but there’s still plenty of fight and stubbornness in there. Though I won’t mind taking you out on a date for a change. There is a good pizza restaurant in Chicago."

As Death drones on about different kinds of pizza crust, Castiel makes noncommittal hums and quietly mends his broken vessel with his depleted Grace.

 There is a ludicrous moment when he considers maybe this is Death’s way to watch out for him. If he hadn’t shown up, Castiel would have to deal with scavenger demons and monsters by now. But he quickly shakes it off. He knows better than to think that the Horseman has somehow taken an actual interest in him. He is the Ultimate Death. Castiel, though a loyal son and brother, and a proud soldier of God, is just another angel. Another existence that Death will eventually rip. Since angels are soulless, Castiel is curious in what form he will come to Death and where he be taken to? Where will angels go when they die? Is there a resting place that God keeps as a secret from them—For them? 

He longs to see his Righteous Man again. He wants to have once more the passing but meaningful glances they shared, the accident and deliberate touches they made, the secret smiles they kept for one another. Most of all, he wants to have a second chance to say what he didn’t. But Castiel is almost certain Dean won’t be wherever he will be taken to. 

“Sleep. You’ll recover faster. Rest assured that I won’t take you by surprise.”

 The promise sounds almost fond.

Castiel sighs, closes his eyes and dreams of feather-light touches, gentle laughter, and someone whispering “my favorite angel.”     

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Emily Dickinson’s [poem](http://academic.brooklyn.cuny.edu/english/melani/cs6/stop.html) and [Effi’s fanart.]()


End file.
